Red Light, Green Light
by girltogirl
Summary: "'I don't want you to leave.' The whispered words left her pale, pink lips in a tremor." Sasha tries to convince Michelle to stay. Post 1x10.


Sasha felt her eyes sting as she saw Michelle exit the hospital; not just from the leftover results of the pepper spray that the latter had sprayed into all of the girls' eyes, but also from fresh tears that slowly crept their way in hers. The one person she was beginning to depend on more than anyone was leaving. It wasn't Michelle's fault, though; Sasha knew that. It was that brat's fault (she _still _didn't know the Ringer's name). Because of that bitch, Michelle was leaving. She was being chased away by a bunch of angry adults for something she hadn't even done. And that made Sasha more furious than anything.

The shorter brunette had been the first to take a stand for Michelle, upon seeing her exit with the angry mob behind her. She'd looked her right in the eye, meeting those sad, brown, soulful eyes, and spoken loudly and proudly, "Oh captain, my captain." What had surprised her was how quickly all the other ballet students had followed her lead. They stood behind Sasha, repeating and chanting what she had, wanting for Michelle to stay almost as much. It had sent a thrill rushing down Sasha's spine. She'd had hope that maybe, just maybe, they could, all together, convince the new ballet teacher to stay.

Sasha didn't want Michelle to leave. At all.

But that's exactly what Michelle did, anyway. As the door swung shut behind the former teacher, Sasha felt the tears crawling out of the crease of her eyes, and slowly slide down her cheeks. It wasn't fair, really. She'd finally found someone she could trust, and could somewhat relate to, but who was, of course, quickly moving out of her life. Leaving her like everyone else.

Not for the first time, the young ballet dancer couldn't help wishing that Michelle was her mother instead of her own. Or, at least a guardian figure of some sort. The latter had been more of a mother-figure to her than Mrs. Torres had been in a long, long time.

Mrs. Torres was an alcoholic, consumed by vodka and other alcoholic beverages day and night. Her father was an openly-closeted gay man, who didn't seem to know she existed whenever they were both in the same room. He was usually zoned out in front of the television, half asleep, while her mother constantly padded around the house, drinking and cursing and screaming. There were times when Sasha's father had been home, sitting on the couch lazily, and her mom had been screaming at her, calling her a bitch, a fat-ass, telling her what a disappointment she was, and her dad hadn't said anything. The only time he'd acknowledged her presence was when she had accidentally stood in front of the television while he was watching. He'd shouted angrily at her to get out of the way.

Of course, Sasha relished the feeling that her dad even acknowledged she was still there.

And then, of course, there was the one time that... _no, don't go there, _Sasha gently scolded herself.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she felt someone poke her shoulder. She turned around, facing Boo, who was looking at her with a worried expression on her face. To the brunette's dismay, she realized she'd been crying and standing still in the middle of the room for a while, probably looking like a depressed monkey.

"Sasha-"

The other girl cut Boo off. "I'm fine, Boo. Just...just the pepper spray in my eyes stings like a bee."

"I don't think that's it," Boo said softly. "If it's any conciliation, I'm going to miss Michelle, too."

Sasha's defensive walls immediately rose up, and she practically snarled, "You think you know everything. God, stop butting into my life, Boo, and go be sappy with your friend, the elf."

"Carl's _not _an elf!" Boo defended. "And I'm just trying to-"

Sasha glanced at her phone, and pretended to check for messages. Her eyes grew wide, in fake dismay.

"Oh, shit. My dad's here. Gotta go."

"Sasha-"

"Good-_bye, _Boo," the taller girl emphasized, before hurriedly leaving without waiting for a response.

"Your dad doesn't even know you're here, Sasha!" Boo called after her, and the brunette ignored her, racing into the night.

Of course, when she got out there, Sasha saw no signs of her father _or _her mother. Someone would think that if their child had been sent to the hospital, the parents would come right away, and make sure everything was okay with them. But then, she snorted to herself, her parents were nothing like anyone else's; well, at least no one's she'd ever met.

Except for, of course, Michelle.

Sasha got the sudden, thrilling idea in her head to go for a walk in the middle of the night, in the busy city, when she knew rape and violence and drugs occurred the most. But the thoughts of Michelle were making her heart ache, and she just needed to be alone for a little. She needed space; away from ballet, away from trying to be perfect, away from all the pain. She was still in the outfit she'd worn for the part of Clara, which was rather thin, and the night brought a chilled air. She wondered if she should get a jacket first, but then remembered that if Boo had seen her, she would've questioned her.

Sighing irritably, Sasha started walking away from the hospital, and down to the parking lot area. The weather was brisk and cold, she realized, and there was just a slight brush of wind here and there. The air smelled like summer, with just a promise of autumn around the corner. Sasha shivered as she sat on one of the ledges that fenced the hospital building, suddenly too emotionally drained and cold to walk anywhere. She tucked her hands under her wedged butt, and blew out breaths of air, enjoying the ability to actually see her breath.

That's when she saw Michelle out of the corner of her eye. Or, Michelle's car, at least. Sasha instantly perked up, feeling the slightest bit of hope. Maybe it was another chance to convince the older dancer to stay. Sasha hesitantly got up, and slowly padded her way towards the car, a little nervous to see if the woman would be inside it or not. The windows were rolled up, and it was way too dark to peer through them. She hesitantly knocked on the driver's window.

The rolling down of the window made Sasha's breath catch in her throat.

"Sasha?" Michelle frowned, gazing at the girl with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Sasha's heart sank when she noticed the tears in the corner of the older woman's eyes. She nodded, biting her lip, and peered at her, carefully.

"Can I...can I sit inside with you? It's a bit cold."

Michelle shook her head, apologetically. "Oh, oh. Of course. Sorry-"

"Don't apologize," the shorter girl said, brusquely, as she made her way around to the other side and opened the passenger door. She hopped inside, breathing out a sigh of relief after she shut the door, and the warm air from the heater blasted her in the face. After a few minutes of awkward, yet somewhat comfortable, silence, Michelle spoke first.

"Are your parents here?"

"Nope," Sasha said, almost too easily.

"Do you need me to drive you to your house?"

Sasha shook her head, and scoffed, "you of all people should know that I'd rather not be there."

"Oh, right. So, where should-" Michelle began.

"Just...could you just drive?"

"Any specific place?" Michelle asked, looking confused and slightly worried.

"Where were you going to go?"

"Back to Fanny's. I need to pack," she said, looking at Sasha guiltily, who frowned.

"Oh."

They were both quiet as Michelle began pulling out of the lot. Sasha fidgeted her hands, and glanced out the window at all the cars passing by. Glancing at Michelle, she noted the slightly tightened grip on the steering wheel, the white knuckles, and the tense gaze she held in her eyes. It made Sasha sad, and slightly angry, that someone as cheerful and bubbly as Michelle could end up in a place where she was tense, angry, and sad all at once. Sasha knew she should say something, anything, to comfort the older woman, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't her place to confront Michelle about a decision that would be better for her. But the words escaped her lips before she could hold them back.

"I don't want you to leave." The whispered words left her pale, pink lips in a tremor.

She immediately felt her face flush. Whether her overwhelming emotions were from guilt, anger, annoyance, embarrassment, or all four at once, she didn't know. How could she've been so stupid to blurt something like _that _out loud? She felt Michelle glance at her in surprise, but she couldn't turn her head to face her, as pale tears began forming in her eyes. She gripped the handle of the car door tightly, squeezing and squeezing, until it made her hand feel sore. She bit down on her tongue, hard, to keep from saying anything else. What would Michelle say to her, now?

But Michelle didn't say anything. She merely drove toward their destination in concentrated silence. Sasha wanted to say something, to apologize. Instead, she squirmed around on her seat, and tilted her head back against the headrest. The silent tears had begun falling harder, now, and another thought, another unwanted memory, stole its way into her mind. In an instant, she was asleep.

It had happened the night before she quit being a ballet dancer in Fanny's class, and had confronted the old woman in front of the entire class. Sasha had come home, pretty late at night, knowing- or, assuming -that her parents hadn't, yet again, noticed her missing presence in the house, and were asleep by now. She was late because she'd wanted to be; she always found new ways to avoid going home.

Apparently, it must've been a very bad night between her parents, because as she was slowly and silently moving around the house, getting ready for bed, her mother came down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and blazing with anger and denial. Her too-bagged shirt was stained with booze and who knows what else, and her hair was tussled, looking more stringy and oily than ever.

"What the fuck are you doing up so late?" she'd hissed at the now-frightened girl, standing frozen by the bathroom. Sasha had known her mother could be like this, an angry drunk who loomed over her every so often, but there was something off at that moment. Something different. Mrs. Torres walked toward her daughter, heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Sasha didn't reply, just stood there, trembling, unable to move or talk, or even breathe.

"Answer me!" her mother screeched, a loud sound that could've woken up the whole neighborhood.

"O-out," Sasha whispered, looking at the floor.

"Out where?" her mother had rasped, her face inches from her daughter's. Her dark eyes seemed to glow a golden color as she stared intently at the young ballet dancer. Sasha breathed in the disgusting scents of alcohol and cigarettes.

"I-"

And before she could even begin saying anything, her mother slapped her, hard, across the face. Sasha stumbled back, slightly, in shock and confusion. Her mother was standing there, breathing heavily, looking at her in...almost a hatred. Sasha took a tentative step back, trying to control her trembling.

"You bitch," Mrs. Torres snarled. She moved forward, and before she could react, Sasha was slapped across the face again, harder that time. "You ruined my life."

"Wha-" Sasha breathed, tears streaming out of her eyes by then.

"Shut up! You ruined everything we had. It's your fault!"

Sasha screamed as her mother lunged at her again, those aggravated, angry, black eyes staring straight at her, into her soul.

And then, she felt herself being shaken, and a voice far away called her name, repeating it over and over again. Sasha woke up, breathing hard, all sweat and tears. Michelle was looming over her, eyes worried, and face contorted in concentration. A hand was gently stroking her cheek, and Sasha closed her eyes again, but the memory was etching into the back of her mind, to be replaced with the feeling of comfort and belonging.

She knew Michelle was going to ask her questions, but she didn't have any answers to give. She knew she shouldn't have let her mind wander to that memory, again. It had been causing her sleepless nights, or sometimes, like tonight, nightmares. It wasn't healthy to dwell on what her mother had done. But then, she realized, she had to see that reminder every day.

Sasha glanced around, realizing they were back, and she was sitting in an awkward position in her car seat.

"Did I fall asleep?"

Sasha couldn't make out the expression she saw in the older brunette's eyes. "Um, yeah. You did."

"And?"

"And what?"

Sasha bit her lip. She hoped she hadn't given much away from her dream. As much as she wanted to leave her house, she couldn't. But if Michelle found out what had went down that night, and so many days and nights before that, Sasha would get taken away from her family, and live on a deserted farm with a bunch of cows. Or in a foster home, where the adults fed the children scraps. Whichever. Sasha was, although she hated to admit it, grateful that at least she wasn't someone who was starving.

By the glint in the brown eyes she was staring at now, however, she knew that Michelle already knew something was up.

And, before she could burst into tears, Sasha was embraced into a warm hug full of longing and love, and Michelle just let her rest her head on her chest. As the tears slowly started falling down Sasha's face, she realized that she could trust Michelle enough to tell her what she'd kept hidden for a few weeks, now. She was tired of hiding. Tired of pretending to be happy. She hadn't cried like she was crying now in months, maybe even years. And it felt so good to let that anger, pain, sadness, and frustration out.

"Tell me what's going on, kiddo," the adult said softly, stroking Sasha's hair.

"Please d-don't go," was all Sasha could manage at the moment. "I- we need you. The class needs you." She couldn't tell Michelle. Why weren't the words she wanted to say coming out of her mouth? What she really wanted to say was, _I need you. Please stay, for me. You're someone I want in my life, and I can't stand to see another person I love leave me._

"Sasha, you know I can't stay-"

Sasha sniffled, blinking up at Michelle. "_Yes, _you can. You're just letting them chase you out."

Michelle sighed. "What other choice do I have? I sprayed you with _pepper _spray. Who does that?"

"You didn't mean to," Sasha mumbled.

"They don't see it that way. To them, I'm just a Vegas whore, who injures and corrupts the minds of young children."

"They don't understand what you mean to m- the class."

"Sasha, I can't stay. I've...I've made too many selfish and awful decisions in this town; decisions I'm not proud of."

"So?"

"I have to leave this town, one way or another, Sasha."

"But-"

Michelle gently untangled Sasha's arms from her, and gave her a sad look. "I need to go pack."

She started walking, very slowly, toward the guest house, where she lived. Sasha glared at her back, before deciding she would follow her. Michelle began folding her clothes, the few that she had, when she entered the room, and Sasha was standing in the doorway, watching her.

She needed to say it.

"M-michelle," she began, choking. She coughed, and emphasized on clearing her throat. "Michelle."

"Sasha-"

"_No, _just listen."

Michelle held up her hands in surrender. "I'm all ears."

Sasha bit her lip. Why was it so hard to tell the woman standing in front of her how she felt? Maybe it was because she'd been forced to shut down her emotions, to bury them, a while ago, and she was adjusted to holding up walls around her, now. Maybe it just wasn't simple enough to beg someone not to leave, because you needed them. She took a deep breath.

"You can't leave."

"I live in America. It's a free country; I can do whatever I want." Michelle's attempt of a joke flatlined.

"_Listen!" _Sasha practically yelled. Michelle shut up. "You can't leave because...because _I _need you. As corny and stupid as that sounds, I need you here, with me, for me. I can't...can't go back to...that place, and not think about wishing I was here, instead. Here with you, eating ice cream, watching old movies, listening to you blab on and on, giving me and the other girls pointless advice. You've...god, Michelle. This place was fucking dull, and then you come along, and make life happen. I know, that sounds stupid, but really, look _around. _You've changed this goddamn excuse of a town into something more exciting, and lively. You've changed the dancers for the better. God, you've even changed _me. _You- you've been like...like a mom to me."_  
_

The word, _mom, _seemed to hit Michelle hard, and her eyes softened. But she let Sasha continue.

"My house isn't a home. I have a gay, absentee father, who only knows I'm alive when he yells at me when I interrupt him while he's watching television, and my mom is an alcoholic, always drinking, always drunk, always walking around the house throwing curse words at my dad and I. Lately, it's gotten bad, Michelle. She..." Sasha trailed off, and looked up at Michelle who was watching her with concerned, caring eyes. "She slapped me, twice," she whispered the last part.

"Oh, my god, Sasha..." Michelle stood up. There was an angry glint in her eyes. "Where did she hit you?"

"Across my face," the girl mumbled, several tears streaking down her cheeks.

Michelle hesitated. She looked at the girl across from her; the broken, sad, beautiful teenager with abusive parents and no one to turn to.

"I..I know what I said was out of the blue." She chewed on her lip, and twisted the ring on her finger.

"You called me 'mom'," Michelle said, sounding dazed.

"I didn't call you _'mom'," _Sasha said, snippily. "I said you're the closest I have to a real mom. Not to put pressure on you, or anything."

Michelle hesitated again.

"Please stay," the young girl murmured. "Don't flee and let them win; fight. Please."

The adult looked lost. "I..."

She looked at Sasha again. Now that she thought about it, she could barely make out the tinge of pink on Sasha's left cheek, a sign that someone had forced their hand on the girl. And Michelle knew she _hadn't _done anything wrong; the pepper spray incident, the partying, the jazz, everything, was something she brought to the town that no one else did. Sasha needed her, and she knew the other dancers at the studio would miss her, dearly. And whether Fanny admitted it or not, she needed the support that Michelle could - try to - bring.

"I'll...I'll stay."

"You will?" Sasha bounced on her toes, excitedly, then dropped back on her heels.

"Let's just hope they don't try to arrest me for this."


End file.
